


Home

by sharkie335



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bruises, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Now</i> I'm home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

John was silent, tightlipped as he accompanied Ronon to the infirmary. One glance at Teyla had her peel off from their little group, taking a protesting Rodney with her, but nothing could have persuaded John to leave Ronon alone, even if it was with Carson. Ronon had apparently realized this, because he didn't even try, just shrugging at John and letting him follow along behind.

Ronon had insisted that he could make it under his own power, but nothing could disguise the careful way he moved or the marks on his face, indications of more bruising beneath his clothes. When Carson pointed him towards the curtain to change, Ronon tried to argue, but as Carson pointed out with a complete lack of tact that his clothes were pretty well destroyed anyway, and that he might as well take them off so that Carson could treat everything at once.

When Ronon came back out, John bit down on his lip so that he couldn't say anything. Against the white of the hospital scrubs, the bruises and whip marks stood out vividly, and John just _knew_ that they would be worse where the clothes covered him up.

Carson was quick but thorough, examining Ronon from head to toe, cleaning abrasions, evaluating bruises and checking for internal bleeding. John wasn't allowed in the room for it, forced to the other side of a curtain, but he could hear them, and Ronon was clearly getting tired of being examined. Then Carson asked the question that John had been dreading. "Is there anything else, lad? Anything at all, you know, more personal?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then Ronon said, "They didn't rape me, if that's what you're asking me."

John breathed a silent thanks, as Carson stuttered and tutted his way through his apparent relief. Ronon was a strong man, but that might have actually have broken him when nothing else could, and it certainly would have been something that John would have felt incapable of handling on his own. Injuries - even the kind that Ronon had taken in the hands of his captors - would heal, though.

In his distraction, he missed the way that the voices behind the curtain were rising, and his attention was only pulled back when Ronon ripped it aside. "I'm fine, Doctor Beckett. You've poked me enough. I'm going back to my room, if that's okay?" The tone of his voice said that it better be.

Carson turned to the cart and picked up a medicine bottle, handing it to Ronon. "Not that you'll take them, you daft bugger, but here's some advil for the bruises when they hurt. Take two every four hours and come back if the pain increases."

Ronon gave a short nod, took the bottle, and stormed out of the infirmary. John hesitated, looking between Beckett and Ronon. "Ah, go after him. Make sure he doesn't do something stupid like decide to take on the Marines, would you?"

Feeling relieved - a Carson who was willing to bitch was a Carson who wasn't too worried - John followed Ronon.

Surprisingly, he actually did go back to his room, hesitating just inside the door so it wouldn't close. Without looking back at John, he said, "Are you coming in or are you just going to stand out there all night?"

John jumped and entered the room, letting the door shut behind him. Hesitantly, he approached Ronon, holding out his hands. "I just... I'm sorry that it took us so long."

"Oh, shut up," Ronon said, pulling John into a hug, bending stiffly to bury his face in John's neck. "Now I'm home."

"You're home," John returned the caress, gingerly bringing one hand up to rest under Ronon's hair. Unsure of where else he could touch Ronon without causing more pain, he just kind of left it hanging by his side, but Ronon muttered, "Touch me, please?"

Carefully, he ran his hand over Ronon's back, pulling back when he hissed in pain. "Don't stop," Ronon said. "Want your touch." John tried again, and managed to ignore the hiss this time, pulling Ronon in tighter. Ronon groaned and just kind of melted against him.

Turning his head, he kissed the side of his face, where one eye was swollen shut. Ronon shuddered under the caress, but when John tried to release him, said, in a voice that no one else would recognize, "Please, John."

"Okay, okay," John said, pulling back just enough to get the white hospital top off of Ronon. His chest was livid with bruises, some of which clearly came from feet.

John ran his hands over them gently, but Ronon clutched his hands to his chest and said, "I'm not going to break. Let me _feel_ it."

This time, John pressed harder, making Ronon hiss again. In frustration, John pulled back and pushed Ronon towards the bed. "Lie down." Ronon went willingly, stopping only to shed the pants first. It was the first look that John had gotten at Ronon's back, and the welts from a whip started at his shoulders and went down to his thighs. No wonder he'd been so uncomfortable in the 'jumper.

Hanging back until Ronon had made himself comfortable was hard, but when Ronon held up one arm, John hurried across the room to settle next to him with an almost audible _click_. Slowly, starting at Ronon's face, John kissed the bruises scattered across the features. The worst of it was the eye, and that got several kisses.

Slowly, he moved his way down. There was a bruise on Ronon's collarbone, that got a hiss when John pressed on it, and a moan when John kissed it. Another, lower on his chest, got a groan. Systematically, he mapped out the bruises and abrasions across the front of Ronon's body, pushing on them to get a bright flare of pain, and then kissing them until Ronon relaxed again.

He started to mutter words into Ronon's skin. "You're mine. I'm the only one allowed to mark you, so I'm taking these and making them _mine_. Let me - just let me..."

Ronon sighed and moaned, tension flowing out of him with every bruise that John claimed. Long before John got there, his cock was hard and red, poking John in the stomach, but John just ignored it. Ronon had been lucky - no one had kicked or punched him there - so there were no marks for John to claim.

The same couldn't be said for his thighs - there was a bright red, darkening to black, bruise on one thigh, and when John pushed on it, Ronon swore, practically sitting up in the bed. "Lie back," John said, "Or I'll have to tie you." Ronon's breathing quickened, but he lay back, letting John map the bruise with his lips.

When he'd covered the front of Ronon's body, he moved off the bed. "Turn over." Ronon did, and then John was up close to the whip marks. They looked even worse from close - there were places where the whip had broken the skin, and each had a line of bruising underlying the welt, but John just started from the lowest one and started to work his way up Ronon's body.

When he finally reached Ronon's shoulders, he held himself up off of Ronon, thinking, for just a moment. With no weight on him, Ronon managed to turn under him. "John?"

John picked up the lube off the nightstand and poured some in his hand, using it to slick up Ronon's cock. Ronon whimpered softly. "John? Are you - "

"Shh," John said, and held Ronon's hard cock so that it was steady as he eased his way onto it. With no prep, it burned and stretched, but he didn't care, slowly working his way down. Ronon came up on his elbows so he could watch as his cock pressed into John, and John rested his hands on Ronon's shoulders.

Gradually, he came to a stop in the cradle of Ronon's hips. He and Ronon groaned in unison, and then John had to _move_ , riding Ronon slowly. He was slow enough that Ronon actually whimpered, saying in a soft voice, "Please, John. Please."

John started to move faster, stroking his own cock as Ronon watched avidly. It didn't take much before Ronon groaned again, falling back onto the bed and coming hard in John's body. John groaned as well, striping Ronon's chest with his own come.

Letting his body sag, he relaxed onto Ronon's chest. "I was wrong," Ronon said.

"Oh?"

" _Now_ I'm home."


End file.
